Bang! Boom! Smash! The loud racket at the front of the train car broke the tranquility of my staring peacefully out the window. It seemed that one of the duffel bags had rolled off the overhead rack, landing on the head of its owner and his three companions.
First name Amanda, last name Reed. And boy oh boy, do I owe her one.
Summer officially arrived on June 21, heralding the return of some critters we might prefer not to share our lives and regional landscape with.
Today’s title above is a somewhat esoteric reference to an old Noel Coward song that I’m fairly sure is no longer considered PC—so I won’t include any of the lyrics here (“Use the Google!” as Mom would yell); suffice it to say that the song refers to blistering heat, which caused the mercury to rise in the Upper Delaware River region over the la
I don’t mind telling you: back in January, when I got back to America from my yearlong sojourn to Europe, I was a mess, in many different ways.
When we think of peregrine falcons nowadays, we think of them nesting on high building ledges and bridge superstructures in urban areas.
My friend called this morning to see if I was loose to go fishing. He said the flows had dropped significantly, and the river was fishable for the first time in weeks. We talked and set a time to meet. On the way he asked where I wanted to fish. I said, “How about that section on the lower river, where we just obtained permission?
Even though I maintain that the “Three Ps” are my bread and butter, I’m not really complaining (go figure), but rather attempting to encapsulate what would otherwise be a very lengthy explanation of what I do for those who dare to inquire.
Some famous words come to mind as I follow ongoing research and policy relating to climate change: “It was the best of times, it was the worst of times, it was the age of wisdom, it was the age of foolishness, it was the epoch of belief, it was the epoch of incredulity, it was the season of light, it was the season of darkness, it was the spring